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A Barbie-themed stateroom is the beginning of the fun. Photo: Andrea Bennett

Before Mattel’s Barbie took on a variety of challenging and progressive careers in the ’80s and ’90s, she was the Barbie of my ’70s childhood. Think Sun Lovin’ Malibu Barbie, whose most difficult job was maintaining her tan. Barbie might be a controversial reflection of changes in gender roles, sexuality and consumer culture, but to me she represents only freer days, when my biggest problems lay in locating two matching stilettos to slip on her molded feet.

Naturally, when I learned that Royal Caribbean would be rolling out Barbie-themed sailings for 4- to 11-year-old girls across its fleet, I booked the first one I could find — the inaugural Barbie Premium Experience on Freedom of the Seas’ Eastern Caribbean itinerary in March (royalcaribbean.com). My cover? My almost 4-year-old daughter, who might not understand all the sociopolitical implications of the Barbie experience but does appreciate long blond hair and pink outfits.

Contrary to the hype surrounding the Barbie Premium Experience, this isn’t an entire Barbie-themed cruise. Barbie girls pay a premium of $349 per cruise to take part in the special events held only for them on regular sailings.

What does it mean to be a Barbie girl? We arrived in our stateroom, with a “Barbie Girls Onboard!” sign, a nautical Barbie pillow sham and blanket, plus a Barbie tote with Barbie and her full wardrobe for the week — all to take home at the end of the trip.

A fresh-from-the-Latin-pageant-circuit leader in a Herve Leger bandage dress and Louboutins led the girls in a Mermaid Dance and fashion-design class, with all practice culminating in a dance performance and fashion show.

Not every moment aboard was 100 percent Barbie-worthy. Since I wasn’t invited to take part in the dance class, I channeled Barbie by checking myself into the onboard spa. My aesthetician lectured me on my “traumatized” skin, tried to push $250 in products on me (and even called my stateroom later to ask when I was going to purchase them) and regaled me with stories during my treatment about how many booty calls a night she gets from married crew members. Forget my skin — I was traumatized. So I did what Barbie would do and went ashore in St. Thomas to buy myself some diamonds. All better.

Overall, Barbie delivers good value for the 4- to 11-year-old set. My daughter might have been a bit young: The “Teacups and Tiaras” etiquette class culminated in her stuffing as many petits fours down her gullet as possible, and she danced her own routine during the choreographed portion of the fashion show. But the older girls seemed to love the experience.

The mothers of the dozen mostly 7- to 10-year-old girls sat front and center at the fashion show, dressed for front row of Fashion Week, and happily looked nothing like the parents on “Toddlers & Tiaras.” (I suspect they were the Barbie generation just younger than me, who played with her more progressive versions, like Ambassador for World Peace Barbie and Pediatrician Barbie.) Their Barbie girls twirled their feather boas on the pink carpet and showcased the fashions they had created for their dolls. They even summoned the poise of a true Barbie girl, ignoring the clutch of drunk, heckling dads at the bar in the On-Air room who had clearly been forced into the situation.

Even though my own little Barbie girl ended up fleeing the pink carpet, we didn’t need to experience all the Barbie events the way they were planned for the magic to take hold. I got some valuable time to myself while my daughter got to wallow in a sea of pink. During our time together, we went ashore in the Bahamas, St. Maarten and St. Thomas, and she practiced her womanly wiles on the dining room staff, who fell all over themselves to deliver. Weeks later, she’s still sleeping on the pillow, carrying her Barbie blanket and talking about going on the Barbie cruise with her mama. I’d call that a success.